


Under The Table

by LuminousGloom



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-29 01:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8469877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuminousGloom/pseuds/LuminousGloom
Summary: Only two people know what goes on under the table at Order meetings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt #:** S-16
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** The world of Harry Potter and its characters are not mine. 
> 
> **A/N:** A big Thank You! to R for beta reading  & your excellent input.

There hadn't even been time for a proper hello. When Moony had first appeared in the drawing room door, looking pale and windswept, other Order members were blocking the way. Before Sirius could get past them, Dumbledore wanted a word, and only half listening, Sirius kept peering over his shoulder. And Remus, nodding at whatever Vance was telling him, smiled back at him.

Then Molly arrived, and they all took their elaborately carved seats around the table. Sirius still enjoyed imagining what his parents would've made of this, the Order of the Phoenix congregating here in the Black ancestral home. He found a chair next to Remus and smoothly sat down.

“All right, Padfoot?” Remus said lightly, though his gaze lingered.

“Yeah.” Sirius tried and failed to sound just as casual. He was delighted to see Moony, it had been ten long days. “You?”

“Fine.” Remus flashed him another grin.

The meeting commenced. Dumbledore set out the order of the day and began to run through each item. Mad-Eye began by talking at length about general surveillance, and useful counter attacks.

Remus was listening attentively, resting his chin in his hand. Sirius stared at the polished dark wood of the table, and as he tried to keep paying attention, he was somehow reminded of Hogwarts. The crushing boredom of some lessons, notably History of Magic, and his frustration at having to sit through them - when he could have been using his time more wisely. On the Quidditch pitch, for example. Or, later, snogging girls, such as Calliope Greene. Or, even later, spending any sort of time with Moony, while trying very hard not to think about snogging him.

Happier memories of his youth had only recently started to surface again, and whenever he caught the merest glimpse of the past, he followed it eagerly. He’d tended to fall into these long reveries during Arithmancy. Remus used to sit only two seats away, and as ever, Sirius’ dog nose would hone in on his scent. At first, it was daydreams - longing, tinged with confusion and self-loathing. Then, later, they’d turned into pure excitement. He’d sit there with his heart beating wildly, and his stomach swooping in anticipation of what seemed within reach. And then, he remembered, eventually he’d be sitting there fiercely trying to rein in an endless procession of lusty thoughts. Now Sirius smiled to himself, and shot Remus a quick glance. Remus was frowning slightly, and nodding at whatever Mad-Eye was droning on about.

“It’s imperative not to underestimate them,” Moody was saying. “They’ve the potential to compromise our closest allies in the North.”

“Indeed. Well put. Thank you, Alastor,” Dumbledore said kindly, effectively bringing the long monologue to a close. “Emmeline, do please tell us about what you’ve found out in that area.”

So Vance revealed new intelligence she'd gathered from particular agents. She had a short, clipped way of delivering facts, and people were taking notes. Remus, too, produced his battered old notebook, found a blank page, and began to scribble with the stub of a green pencil.

Sirius leaned back in his chair. There was no point in him even taking any of this in, he thought bitterly, a fat lot of good such information did him anyway, stuck as he was here at Grimmauld Place. Everyone knew that his sitting in on these Order meetings was nothing but a charade. To make him feel included, to give him some semblance of being of any use, beyond allowing the Order the run of this bloody place. If Snape were here, he’d make sure to constantly remind them of this fact. But Snape wasn’t here. And there was no point in brooding, either, Sirius reminded himself. Especially since, instead of Snape, there was Remus. Actually sitting next to him.

He watched Moony’s hand move across the page. Beautiful long fingers, with all sorts of magic in them. Remus had always been skilled with his hands, good at fixing things, at dissecting and repairing and sorting things out. Someone who would hold a thing gently, and contemplate it, before doing precisely what needed to be done. Sirius had always been guilty of more of a slapdash approach, confident in the age old, pureblood powers he’d so unquestionably inherited. His wand work was impulsive, he fired at will, he sometimes got things wrong. He’d often got things wrong, actually. His catalogue of errors was immense; Merlin knew he’d had twelve years to dwell on it in detail.

Sirius took a deep breath, clenching his hands in his lap. Dumbledore gave him a warm look, but Sirius avoided his gaze. To his right, Remus turned the page and smoothed it down, moving the notebook the slightest amount towards Sirius. He still seemed absorbed in his note taking. Then suddenly he put his pencil down, and resting his chin in his hand again, seemed entirely focused on Vance. Emmeline was listing her next targets, interrupted by occasional suggestions from Mad-Eye.

Glancing at the notebook, Sirius admired Moony’s handwriting. Considering everything, it hadn’t changed all that much, he thought idly. Then he read what the words actually said.

_Got any plans later?_

Sirius couldn’t help grinning. Furtive notes - this really _was_ like being back at Hogwarts. The question was understated, and yet unequivocal. What on earth else was Sirius going to be doing later?

Around them an argument suddenly erupted, something about Death Eaters in Whitehall. Moody and Kingsley both spoke forcefully, but Sirius found it hard to really keep up. He was surprised when Remus interjected, his voice calm and measured, as though he hadn’t just propositioned someone via a schoolboy’s pencilled note. The others seemed to let Moony’s words sink in for a moment, before getting ready to shout some more. Dumbledore called them to order, and during the short awkward silence that followed, Remus picked up his pencil again and made another short entry in his book. Sirius sat up straight. He glanced at the page almost accidentally.

_Give me your hand._

He didn’t look at Moony again, but watched Arthur begin to describe the current situation at the Ministry of Magic. Arthur explained what had occurred during a recent reshuffle. Under the table Sirius let his hand wander. There was the smooth table edge, and then a bit of wooden chair, and then the warm squeeze of Moony’s left hand. And then, after a moment, Sirius’ fingers were firmly placed onto a trouser leg – Moony’s thigh, just above the knee. 

Arthur talked, and Sirius pretended to be listening attentively. He enjoyed the feel of Remus’ thigh, stroking it slowly, feeling the firm muscle there. He ran his hand down to the knee, and up again. Remus moved a little under his touch, letting his legs fall open. Sirius followed suit, and let his fingers wander further, until they danced along Moony’s inner thigh, and up, towards his crotch.

From what Arthur was saying, things at the Ministry were getting a lot worse. Certain people were blatantly positioning themselves, obviously expecting a takeover. Sirius had heard all about that nasty Umbridge woman from Harry, but - as he kept nodding as though he was listening carefully, Sirius could no longer concentrate on any of it. There was the touch of slightly rough fabric beneath his fingertips, and there was Moony’s gorgeous, heady scent, and thighs spreading even wider in invitation. _Touch here, caress there, feel this…_

Sirius ventured further, and found that Moony was hard. Properly hard. Skimming, realising, touching, and hungrily grasping the full length of Remus’ cock bulging there in his trousers, Sirius all at once became aware of his own full-blown arousal. He managed to keep his breathing even, and marvelled at Remus’ ability to appear so utterly impassive. Thoughtful, even.

Surely this was disrespectful of the Order, and they really shouldn’t - but how couldn’t they? Blatantly Moony’s fault, he’d started it. And now there was no way Sirius could stop stroking that beautiful cock of his. Squeezing it, fully cupping the crotch of Remus’ trousers. Remus was looking down at his notebook with apparent concentration. Glancing at him casually, Sirius saw him blink, trying to hold back, saw the faint smile.

He loved that they still had this effect on each other. After just over a week apart, here Remus was, hard for him, desperate to get off, actually compromising an official Order meeting because he couldn’t wait. And of course bony, ravaged old Sirius was keen to oblige, would always oblige, where Remus was concerned. Delighted that they had each other back, that Remus was once again his. Here Remus had literally put himself in Sirius’ hand, and Sirius was absolutely going to be making the most of it.

This meeting would be over, sooner or later it would be done. The Order would exchange pleasantries. Sirius would excuse himself, he had license, what with his fragile mental state. And Remus might say he’d make sure that Sirius was all right.

Sirius’ hand had stopped exploring, instead he let it fall into a natural, languid rhythm. Each piece of Moony’s clothing Sirius would pull off him slowly. The old tweed waistcoat, this soft linen shirt, these blasted trousers. He’d lay him on the bed and look for Moony’s scent beneath his underclothes, he’d find the gentle werewolf, the strong and supple man. He’d trace every muscle, and kiss his scars. He’d snog him breathless, he'd suck the precum from his cock, and playfully bite his arse. And they’d get caught up in the old magic they made together, they’d get tangled up in old and new and various inventive ways. Maybe Sirius would fuck Remus first. Or maybe Remus would roll Sirius over and have at it. Either way would be magnificent – personally he’d never preferred one way over the other. He loved for Moony to thoroughly claim him, to enter and pound into him until Sirius was incoherent, overwhelmed with desire. Or equally he relished driving his own cock into the heat of Moony’s willing body, fucking him hard and deep, until Remus came undone. They'd always been gifted at shagging each other senseless. Still pondering this, Sirius continued to work on Moony, firmly stroking and squeezing and twisting.

And Moony was no longer impassive. He was staring at the page, trying not to blink, trying not to clench his fists. Sirius could feel him struggling to keep calm. Molly had just started talking about strategy when Remus jumped and clumsily dropped his pencil. He rapidly bent down to pick it up, fiercely gripping Sirius’ hand and letting out a long breath. When he appeared again his face seemed a bit flushed. Under the table, he kept Sirius’ hand in an iron grip for a moment, until he retreated.

Again, Sirius couldn’t help grinning. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at him, and clearing his throat, Sirius contained himself and casually laid both his hands on the shiny table.

Molly continued. Sirius listened and nodded. Next to him, Remus toyed with his pencil.

They weren’t going anywhere. They had all evening.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love. Comment here or on [Livejournal](http://sirius-black.livejournal.com/294690.html) for the author to see.


End file.
